Come Together (44 page)

My hands began to shake again as I realized what was coming. I pulled away, and he let me.
This is it. Everything could go away after this. Everything. Was it all a dream, a fantasy?

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned to look at him. The moon was bright enough that I could see everything on his face. His eyes were so clear and determined that I touched my palm to my heart in surprise. And I knew that whatever he said next would be the truth. His eyes were his soul. They had never lied to me, and for that I would always be grateful. “David,” I prompted, not recognizing my own voice.

“There’s nothing in this world I want more than you, Olivia.”

I laced my trembling fingers over my chest. My heart jumped into my throat. “But?”

“But nothing.”

My eyes watered, threatening a celebration of tears. “David?”

He placed a hand on the side of my neck, leaned into my ear and uttered, “I would kill for you. I would die for you. You are my everything. If you don’t want children, then we won’t have them. And if you change your mind, that’s fine too. Just know that nothing can keep me away.”

I choked back a sob.

He drew back to look at me again. “If it’s you and me for the rest of our lives, well, I can’t really complain about that.”

I threw my arms around his neck. “Oh, David,” I whispered. “Do you know how much I love you? More than the moon, the stars, the world.
You’re everything I never dared to dream.”

He shuddered under my body. He pried my hands away and stepped around me to stand in front of the window. He looked alert in a way I’d never seen, nervous even. His hair was spiky from sleep. He was big, always dark and brooding in his own way, and so incredibly gorgeous in just his underwear standing with his back to the city.

“What – ”

“I want that life with you too,” he interrupted. “Traveling, eating, making love, sleeping next to you, waking up to your beautiful face every morning. That’s what I want.”

My gaze dropped to his hand, which I now noticed was tightly curled around something. Before I could ask, in one fluid motion, he dropped to one knee. His fingers unfurled. On his palm sat a black velvet box. My eyes darted between it and his face.

“Were it anyone else, I would’ve walked away in the beginning. Were it anyone else, I would’ve fucking stayed away. But it’s not. It’s you. It always has been, and always will be, you.” He opened the box, and I blinked slowly at the ring. “Marry me, Olivia.”

Fresh tears welled, but I inhaled them and laughed. “You can’t say ‘fuck’ in a proposal,” I informed him.

“I just did.”

I took a step forward, sat on his bent knee and wrapped my arms around his neck. I rubbed my face against his bristly cheek, and in his ear, said, “Yes. You are my love, my home. Yes.”

His shoulders underneath me deflated with an exhale, and I pulled back to look at him. It was my favorite thing in the whole world, the boyish, blissful smile on his face.
Happiness
.

He caught my lips with his, both of us smiling through a series of small, sweet kisses. His hand grasped for mine until he found it. We both watched as, slowly, he slid the platinum ring, glinting and magnificent in the moonlight, onto my finger. The band was slight but the cushion-cut diamond was not. It was large and blindingly beautiful, simple and clear.

I shook my head in awe, unable to tear my eyes away. “How did you know?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, confused. “When I said earlier that I was looking for something, it was this. I looked for it all day, but the second I saw it, I knew it was right.”

I glanced up at him and after a moment, released the breath I’d been holding. I nodded. “It’s right. So right. Everything is right.”

EPILOGUE

I SHIFTED THE GROCERIES into one hand and squinted up at my beautiful husband as we waited for the signal to cross the street.

“You’re staring,” he told me.

“Sorry,” I said but didn’t look away. I blinked. “Oh, shit! I forgot Manchego cheese. We can’t have a Spanish feast without Manchego.”

“Certainly not,” he said with a half-smile. “I’ll run back. Wait here?”

“Where would I go?”

We’d driven in to the city for one of David’s events the night before and had stayed at the apartment. Now, we were buying last minute groceries before heading back to Oak Park.

He dropped his plastic bags. In one swoop he embraced me, bending me backward over one of his arms while the other circled my hips. I squealed just as he locked his lips over mine in a passionate kiss.

“What was that for?” I asked breathlessly when he pulled away.

“Nothing, honeybee. I just couldn’t go another second without doing it.”

A large, all-consuming smile overtook my face as I blushed.

“Actually, that’s why,” he said quietly, running his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “I’ll be right back.” He gently righted my body, steadying me when I swayed slightly. His kiss still had that effect on me.

When he turned away I was hit by a familiar glare from across the street. Bill, now my ex-husband, was seated on the patio of a café with Lucy and Andrew. I froze as his eyes bored into me, sending a chill down my spine. Unable to look away, I returned his stare. He blinked finally and turned back to Lucy, who appeared to be mid-story as she gestured in Bill’s direction. Andrew rubbed her back as she talked. She wore her hair even shorter than she used to, whereas I had let mine grow in the two years since I’d seen her. They all broke out in laughter simultaneously, and my heart tugged. For a moment, I entertained the thought of going over to say hello but fear glued my feet to the concrete.

I’d reached out to Lucy once more since her e-mail, but nothing had come of it. It took a while, but I eventually realized that for her, the friendship was over. She and Gretchen had made up and remained close, so I heard bits and pieces of her life that way. I could see, even from a distance, that she was happy, but I still missed her friendship.

Bill, on the other hand, had made it hard to miss him. The six months David and I waited for the divorce were grueling. Though David assured me he was fine keeping our engagement a secret, I wanted him to know how proud I was to wear his ring. Bill didn’t hide his disgust. Fortunately, he and David never laid hands on each other again, but there were times I thought David would push him through the wall for the way he spoke to us during the proceedings. A year and a half had passed since we’d seen him, but from the look in his eyes just now, nothing was yet forgiven. It made me all the more sure that I’d made the right decision.

Not that I needed any reassuring, I thought, as I watched David exit the grocery store. His smile was big when his aviators locked on me, his gait leisurely and confident. An attractive woman did a double take as she passed him. She turned and lowered her sunglasses to get a better look. My chest swelled with pride as she checked out my man, but I laughed a little when she tripped over the curb.

“Manchego,” he said, holding up the block of cheese. “Crisis averted.”

“My superhero,” I returned.

He leaned over and picked up all the bags, including mine. “Let’s get this party underway.”

As we walked away, I shot one last glance at the table of friends. They made a good group and seemed happy. I couldn’t be upset about that. I stuck my hand in David’s back pocket, and we made our own heavenly way back home.

As we pulled up to the house, I smiled. I always did. David’s vision, with some minor input from me, had blossomed before our eyes. It was alive again, or maybe for the first time, I wasn’t sure. The grass was green, plants revived. The stone walkway was fixed and led a natural path to the front door.

Before David took the six-month job in New York, he’d warned me that I might not like his apartment there because it was ‘masculine.’ I’d teased him that ‘masculine’ was code for bachelor pad. To both our surprise, I’d fallen immediately in love with it. Unlike his Chicago apartment, it was dark and woodsy, with exposed brick walls and dim, yellow lighting. The vintage furniture was heavy leather and oak, worn but solid.

I’d insisted on decorating our house that way; it was a sylvan paradise. It was earthy and heavy and the smell reminded me of David, which I loved most of all.

Tonight was the perfect Chicago night for a party. David opened up all the doors and windows so the light of the setting sun filtered in. I’d almost finished laying out the food on a table in the backyard when there was a knock at the door. David and I met in the entryway, the same spot I’d told him over two years before that Bill had put in an offer on this very house. We kissed quickly.

“We can see you.”

I giggled at Jessa, who peered through a vertical window that ran alongside the front door.

David pulled open the door and groaned. Equipped with margarita mix, wine, whiskey and other assortments of alcohol, stood our friends and family: Gretchen, Ava, Bethany, Mack, Alex, Jessa, Judy, Gerard, Cooper and Brian. Just past them, Serena and her boyfriend, Brock, were climbing out of his car.

“Well, baby, I’d say we have extremely punctual friends,” David said, looking down at me.

They all piled in at once, and David assumed bartending duties. They were a rowdy bunch, and sometimes they were weird, but I couldn’t complain. I loved them.

“In honor of David’s and my trip to Spain, we’re having tapas,” I announced in the backyard. “You can help yourselves,” I added, gesturing to the expansive spread.

“So? How was Spain?” Jessa asked, hooking her arm in mine.

I smiled wistfully and attempted to think of a word that could possibly do it justice. “Magical,” I decided.

I waved back from my beach towel. David looked sexier than ever, perched on his surfboard, his stomach flexing into a delicious six pack. Riveted, I watched as he caught another wave, fluidly hopping onto his shortboard and riding it down the line. I loved watching David at the beach, completely in his element.

I reclined back onto my towel, inserted my earbuds and closed my eyes to soak in the hot Spanish sun. Cool drops of water punctured my relaxed state. I opened one eye, squinting up at David.

“I couldn’t help noticing you from the water,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Actually,” I purred, “I was thinking of taking a dip.”

He set his board down next to me and held out his hand. He hoisted me up with one pull and scooped me off my feet.

“Well, I was just going to get my feet wet,” I admitted nervously as he cut gracefully through the sand.

“I don’t think so, honeybee. The water’s perfect.”

“But – ” A squeal tore from my lips when he threw me into the sea. I popped up, gasping for air and splashed him as I tried to run ashore. He caught my waist and spun me into him. I was breathing hard as he captured my lips in a quick kiss. “You look incredibly sexy, Mrs. Dylan.”

“Thank you for this,” I said, motioning in the general direction of San Sebastián. “All of this.”

“Thank
you
for all of
this
,
”
he replied, running his hands greedily over my body, his fingers teasing the straps of my bikini top. One hand skated down to my lower back and pulled me so close that my entire body felt his heat, even through the cold salt water.

“David Dylan, you scoundrel,” I teased.

“Olivia Dylan, you temptress.”

“Do you intend to take me in front of all of Spain?” I asked hopefully.

“Would a gentleman do that?” He smiled and then peered over my shoulder. “Remind me to find us a private beach next time.”

“I don’t care,” I said, kissing his briny neck and then working my way down to nibble on his shoulder.

“I know you don’t,” he said, shaking his head and pulling me off.

“Damn it,” I said under my breath, and he laughed. But I wasn’t ready to give up. “It’s our honeymoon, we’re supposed to do this sort of thing.”

“Oh, we will do this sort of thing, as much as possible, and as long as possible – in a place where I’m the only one who gets to see you naked.” He kissed me. “Oh, how I do love that pretty pout, though,” he added.

“Read it to me again,” I said suddenly, fingering the gold disk that hung between my breasts from its chain.

We’d spent the first week of our honeymoon in the South of France before making our way to Spain. I’d learned that my new husband spoke French and spoke it beautifully. He’d impulsively stopped in a small jewelry shop and unbeknownst to me, ordered a hand-engraved gold necklace that we would pick up on our way out of town.

“Haven’t you memorized it by now?” David asked, bringing me back to the moment.

“No,” I lied.

“Car, vois-tu, chaque jour je t’aime davantage,aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain
.”

I smiled and looked at him expectantly.

He covered my hand that held the tiny, delicate disk. “
For, you see, each day I love you more,
today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.”